I stood at the edge of the black lake stretched out before me in a calm, glassy, dark blue. I could imagine the water rising; foaming into a torrent of teeth and claws to drag those unlucky souls down into the bodiless black of their watery grave. I shivered, slight, before taking a careful step forward.
The water was cold. Dead.
I felt the water rise to my calf, sliding its way upward until it reached the warmest part of my thigh. I shivered from the cold, inviting it; testing it. Such cold waters. So very tame.
As I stepped fully into the lake, I felt a chill sweep up my spine, that familiar reminder of this-is-a-terrible-idea whispering in my ear. I swallowed the lump in my throat and took another timid step, feeling the quiet waters engulf me around my waist. My heart pattered against my chest.
One breath… two. Still breathing.
"Tis only water…"
The voice broke my comfortable silence. I whipped my head around to find the witch standing there, looking at me in a peculiar way with her head tilted to one side. I sucked in a sharp breath to gather myself again and frowned.
"Shall you gawk all day?" I bit back while covering my bare chest in a need for security. I could feel a slight blush already creeping up on my neck, but not from my lack of clothing. She scoffed.
"Do not fear, I do not intend to ravish you, if that is your concern," she said in a voice tinged with amusement. She sauntered over to the edge of the pool, calculating its depths, before quietly removing her boots and taking a seat at the edge with her feet dangled in the water. She splashed it back and forth, and I took a slow step away.
"Though I do wonder," she continued on, still insistent to invade my personal space, "how is it you fear water, of all things?" She tapped a curious finger to her lips and shook her head, unable to grasp the concept. I felt my heart beginning to thrash harder in my throat as I crossed my arms and hunkered down.
"The same reason we all have secrets-" I decided on while wading my way back towards shore, no longer comfortably standing in the nude by the edge of a lake at night. I climbed onto bank before snatching up my clothes and, using the nearest bush for privacy, quickly pulled my gown back over my head. Morrigan was back on her feet now, boots in her hands.
"'Tis one thing to talk, and another to avoid conversation intentionally," she began, following alongside me as we walked back towards camp. "I am not one for talking-"
"Because clearly it shows," I cut in rather fiercely. She paused, taken aback by my interruption, then let a slight smile curl onto her lips.
"-But since we've been on this journey of sorts," she stepped back into place in the conversation, "I cannot help but notice your begging curiosity with water."
"I suppose I have my reasons.." I murmured while traipsing back over to our encampment on the outside of the clearing. I saw the curious heads of our fellow campmates pop up from behind various tents and obstructions, then quietly lower back down when I paid them no mind.
"Morrigan," I said, my tone decisively changing the subject, "why is it you stay here?" I shot a calculating, troubled look in her direction. I had told her many times before she was not obligated to stay - clearly she had originally had no strong intentions to do so, yet after so many weeks she was still by my side, still sharing a camp with me. Alistair asked once before why I chose not to join the others.
I told him it was a witch thing.
I saw her pause in between stuffing some of her garments into a satchel and stare long and hard at the ground. It was an abrasive but open look, one which quickly flashed to guarded when she turned back to look at me.
I knew that look all too well.
"I have my reasons," she quoted in an almost mocking tone. She seemed irritated despite the innocence of the question. I had no intention of riling her. I knew all too well what ends that road met by the angry wave of a glowing wand and wrathful female. Alistair had yet to fully grasp that concept.
Despite my better judgment, I snorted. I had known Morrigan long enough to realize I could get away with such small discrepancies, for we were two animals of a like kind. She knew.
"What? Do you not believe I can have my own reasons?" she stood up, bristling, her hands on her hips. I raised a brow in her direction, moving over to my side of our camp to find my books.
"No," I said, "I just did not expect you to mindlessly quote me." I mirrored her position and crossed my arms, shooting her an expectant did-you-think-that-would-work look before curling my lips into a smile.
Morrigan did not seem amused.
"Well, do you want me to leave?"
Not the conversation I meant to start. I bristled.
"I never said that."
"No, but you certainly make your thoughts loud and clear by continuing to beg the question every night! I am assuming you wish for me to leave-" She began to pack her things more furiously, now alarming me to the realization she was not just moving things, but packing them as if she intended to leave. I laughed.
"If I wanted you to leave I would have told you to," I shrugged, stepping over the place where she was busy snatching up her potion bottles. I heard them clatter and fall back on the ground.
"I am not a mongrel dog to be given commands!" she yelped. I turned, slowly, to find her back on her feet now. She was angry, a comforting and wounding angry that I remembered very well.
I tensed my brow and studied her slowly, a finger tapped against my lip.
"I'm sorry," I finally said, dropping my arms back at my side with a confused look still plastered on my face. Why did I get the impression I was standing there, looking at myself. I shoved the thought away for another time.
Morrigan slowly fell back to her seat and began to gather up her belongings, taking a deep, drawling sigh.
"'Tis all right. I understand the principle-" she said. I turned back to her.
"Hm?" She looked up at me, a faint but understanding glint in her eyes.
"You choose not to feel responsible for holding others against their will," she shrugged. "An understandable view given your history with captivity."
"Tell me about it," I sighed with relief while taking a flopping seat beside her on top of her rolled-up cot. She chuckled.
"You know, I never expected to like you," she admitted after a thoughtful pause. I huddled over on my knees and lifted a stick to poke at the fire. I snorted.
"I wouldn't expect you to - cold-hearted bitch isn't exactly a comforting title.." I said, though felt my words fall empty as the phrase echoed in my mind.
I don't want to be that person…
"I don't choose it-" I corrected, my face screwing up as I continued to stare long and hard into the fire. Morrigan shifted beside me.
"I just.." I paused. "I am unfortunately titled as such," I finished pointlessly with a shrug. A deepening frown was pulling on my mouth as I considered the phrase, rolled it over in my mind and silent tongue, and decided I never liked it.
"Not to pry-" Morrigan spoke up after the silence became too much. I turned tired eyes to glance at her; she looked back, then quickly turned her eyes to the fire. She had a habit of not looking someone in the eyes if they weren't her enemies or considered prey. I had since excluded myself from either category when she offered to let me take up dorm in her tent. Intelligent company was a rare offer to the Witch of the Wilds.
"I have watched the look on your face whenever someone throws an insult in your direction, yet-" she paused shaking her head as if she was mistaken, then looked me directly in the eyes, "when the option of returning to your home was brought up, you looked like a frightened child."
"That is not my home," I butted in quicker than necessary. Stone-cold feelings of resentment immediately built up in my chest, squeezing tight and shortening my breath. I looked away, hunkering down into my arms and wanting the feeling to go away. Morrigan pulled away slightly before considering her words, then turned back to the fire.
"I see," she murmured.
Silence.
The crackling of the fire stretched miles between our words, filling the air with useless noise and weight. I stared long and hard into the depths of orange glow, wishing it would engulf the tower. Take them all down, one by one.
I want you to feel my anger.
..Even you.
I shut my eyes and tried to ignore the stab to my chest, but it was to late.
Red. So much red.
Childish.
You are such a child, Cullen.
"What do you plan to tell the others?" Morrigan broke through my thoughts before they could spiral into madness. I tensed in my seat before gripping the insides of my arms as tight as I could.
"I don't know," I admitted after a pause. I didn't have the answers. I didn't know what to do, and Maker I sure as hell couldn't decide in time before someone dragged me kicking and screaming back into the depths I'd sworn never to step foot on again. Greagoir hated me; I half-expected to find him waiting on the tower doorstep with a hatchet in his hand the moment I came into sights.
"They will ask questions soon enough," Morrigan continued, nagging my conscious. "When it comes time to make a decision and you have to explain why you refuse to help-" she stopped, realizing I was shrinking into my arms the more she talked. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and sighed, knowing every word she spoke all too well.
I don't know what to do, I just don't…
"I can't go back there," I mumbled into my arms. A pause.
"Will not or cannot? Those are surely two very different concepts," she prodded. "We cannot abstain the mission simply because you do not feel like it." She was chiding me now, like a mother chiding a misbehaved child. I hated it.
"I just can't." I ground out through clenched teeth.
"I need a better reason than that, Isthalla," she scoffed. "Are you to spout that same, childish nonsense to the others tomorrow when they begin towards Lake Calenhad? I doubt Alistair will even allow that excuse!"
"FINE!" I snapped, abruptly jerking my body out from the cocoon of my arms and turning on her. She recoiled slightly in surprise before narrowing her eyes.
"Fine," I corrected myself, tone lowering. "If I told you why, would it make a difference?" I snapped.
"It depends on the what of this why of your's, Isthalla."
"Fine," I sighed. "Then I'll need something to drink."
She looked surprised. I turned weary, half-lidded eyes to her face.
"If I am to be murdered tomorrow, I'd at least like to be happily drunk when it happens," I muttered with a distasteful frown on my lips.
Morrigan raised her expression in half-surprise before grinning and fishing out a large bottle of rum from her pack. She waved it in front of my face and tilted her head.
"Chatter away, friend," she said.
"Yeah," I laughed. "I'm certain it will be that simple."